


Tactical Realignment

by BeaRyan



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, Light D/s, One Shot, Porn with the vaguest hint of a plot, Smut, Topsy Turvy Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:01:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3635889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeaRyan/pseuds/BeaRyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-series.  Written for the Topsy Turvy challenge.  Charlie pursues Bass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tactical Realignment

"I've been talking to one of the officers from the old republic," Charlie said as she strode across the polished tile floor of Bass' office. She hadn't bothered to knock or have his secretary announce her before letting herself in. Any other captain would be in the stockade or busted down a rank, but there were perks to being Miles's niece and a founding member of the new republic. 

Bass kept his eyes on his work, his pen hovering over the documents and ready to strike in the only way available to him today. "We probably did whatever he claimed and at the time we thought it was necessary." He glanced up, saw the tightness in her jaw, and added, "We aren't doing it that way this time." 

"He said for a declared victory, battle or no, you would have sent around a squad of whores." 

That did make Bass put down his pen. "The third and undiscussed F in fight or flight is fuck. We have three thousand soldiers who were expecting to go out and kill today. New Orleans backed down. That energy has to go somewhere."

"But you didn't hire women this time?" she asked. She'd crossed behind his desk to perch her ass on the edge of it, beside where he sat in his chair. She leaned back making her hands take her weight. 

"Since your mother keeps Miles' balls in her purse, no, not this time." 

"There are approximately three hundred out of uniform female soldiers claiming a short term enlistment wandering through camp energetically celebrating the victory." 

Bass smirked. "Funny how things work out, isn't it?" 

"And did you also hire men for the female soldiers?"

"I didn't admit to hiring anyone, Captain."

"I meant in the old republic." 

"No. They pointed at a dick, said 'I want to ride that,' and then they did. Plenty to choose from." 

"And your officers were allowed to ignore rank for the day and fraternize?"

Bass let his eyes run the length of her body. She was wearing her hair loose today - they'd argued over the professionalism of that before - and her the collar of her starched shirt was open. As she leaned back, her breasts were thrust forward, the curve of her flesh and the outline of her bra visible thanks to her unbuttoned jacket. He had to be misinterpreting this. "At first we didn't do anything for anyone. Later, when we did have officers and whores, Baker and Sanchez were married and went home to their husbands. Foster had Miles, as did a couple of other people." He gave her a grin that admitted he enjoyed the memory of the drama. "That caused some problems." 

"Who had you?" 

"Jessica." He paused for a moment before plastering on one of his impossibly layered smiles and continuing. "She knew how to give an order. She died at the Battle of Quebec, and not too long after that we didn't have any female officers."

There was a wound there that Charlie didn't want to open - she wasn't cruel by nature - but there was information and opportunity in the disclosure, too. "What kind of orders did she give you?" 

Bass rested a hand on her thigh. When Charlie didn't shove him away he said, "She told me to kiss her."

"No." 

"Touch her breasts." 

"No." 

"Eat her pussy." 

"Yes." 

Bass leaned back in his chair. It was an antique but not a good one; the new republic was still young. Dark wood with wheels and no arms, it looked more like something a school marm would use while grading papers than the place from which a resurgent despot gave orders. Still, he knew how to deliver a line. "You have fucked my son and you're Miles' niece. You want that order to stick then it's up to you to deliver it like you mean it." 

"Shut up and do as you're told," she said. Her voice was cold and authoritative. She'd been trained by the best and never had to doubt that she had enough backup to follow through on a threat. 

"Your pants are in my way." 

She wedged a foot between his thighs and propped it on the edge of his chair. "Untie my boots and take off my pants." 

He gave her a sly smile, the kind she wouldn't have tolerated from one of the men in her unit. "Yes, Ma'am." 

"You could work faster if your eyes were on your work. Focus, General." 

"Yes, Ma'am," he said. He looked down, eyes on his work and his fingers focused on her laces, but he bit his lips as he undid the double knot of her boot and then slipped it off along with her sock. He grabbed her other leg behind the knee, balanced it on his thigh, and made quick work of that foot as well. 

"Do you plan to chew through my pants, General, or take them off?" 

"I'm waiting for an order." 

"I already gave that order. You can't be a general if you can't follow multi-step directions."

His breath hitched as he caught her eyes. 

She slipped off the edge of the desk and stood in front of him, close enough for him to easily touch her, but far enough away that he'd have to reach for her. She said, "You've been demoted, Private. Get my pants off and get to work, and maybe you can earn back your rank." 

"Yes, Ma'am." 

"I didn't say you could talk." 

Bass' hands shook slightly as he undid the buttons of her pants, and when he'd slipped them off along with her panties, she hopped back up on the edge of the desk. "I don't like waiting, Private." 

"What exactly do you want me to do, Ma'am?"

"Make me come." 

"How?" he asked. His hand drifted to his lap, stroking the ready ridge there. 

She smiled as she denied him. "With your mouth." 

"Hands, Ma'am?" 

"Only if you need them." 

The rules of the challenge set, Bass dove into his work. She wasn't the only one who'd expected a battle today and instead had faced nothing more threatening than a papercut. He had energy to burn and a desire to conquer or be conquered. He wanted a decisive victory and sometimes you had to make adjustment to orders in the heat of battle. When he felt her pulse and clench around his fingers, back arched, whimpering as she fought to stay quiet, he knew his decision had been the right one. 

While her breaths still came fast and unsteady he asked, "Is the captain satisfied?"

"No. Take off your pants." 

"Yes, Ma'am." 

"Fast and hard, Private." 

"Yes, Ma'am." 

Bass' hands shook as he unfastened his pants. The desk was nearly the perfect height and Charlie only had to slightly lift her hips to allow him access. He hesitated and she ordered, "Now, Private." 

He didn't answer with words, just did as he was told, hard and fast. The slapping of skin on skin and his increasingly strained grunts as he fought to hold back just a little longer were briefly the only sounds, but when Charlie's sharp cry of pleasure broke the near silence he joined her in crashing past the edge of restraint. 

When they were both spent, he leaned over, slipping away but resting his head on her chest and listening to her heart race. After his breaths had slowed to an almost normal pace he said, "I think next time it would be better if you found someone else." 

"You're wrong, Private." 

"I'm a general, Captain." 

Gently she ran her fingers through his hair, toying with his curls before sliding her hand through the scruff of his beard and tilting his chin so he looked up at her. "This was the first time, not the last, Sebastian."


End file.
